


When Matt plays to win

by Gutter_Couch



Series: behind me, beneath me, beside me [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Cock Rings, Dom/sub, Kink Negotiation, Leashes, M/M, Matt desperately wanting to be good for Foggy, Sexy Yoga, Spanking, Tie Kink, gentle dom foggy nelson, public displays of horniness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:01:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27096994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gutter_Couch/pseuds/Gutter_Couch
Summary: Matt and Foggy aren't always perfect at communicating as Sub and Dom, but they are very adept at making each other feel good.
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Series: behind me, beneath me, beside me [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1977175
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	When Matt plays to win

Foggy has Matt pay the cab driver, just for the pleasure of seeing the clear outline of Matt’s package pressed against the taut front panel of his pants when he dips his hand into his back pocket. The taxista whistles, low and impressed, her eyes following Foggy’s. Matt snarls, just a bit, and angles his body away.

Foggy replaces his hand on Matt’s hip, directs him to face forward toward the taxista. 

Matt swallows, face reddening. His dick is throbbing inside the ring Foggy put on him in the court bathroom. Foggy always insists it’s for Matt’s own good. More and more, Matt is discovering the ways Foggy can be right. 

“Um,” Matt says, utterly unfamiliar with being inarticulate.

“Hmmm...?” Foggy asks with an air of total innocence.

“Um, how much was the ride?”

“For you, darlin’ I can think of other ways to pay.”

Foggy stiffens and immediately places himself in front of Matt. “Here,” he throws a wad of two twenty dollar bills in the driver’s face. As she scrambles to catch the money, Foggy says, “He’s for looking but not for touching.”

Matt, hands lightly resting on Foggy’s shoulders, nods slightly. He shifts his stance, back and forth. He can’t quite get his pants to rub the way he wants. He shifts again, straining. Back and forth.

“Keep the change,” Foggy is saying. 

Matt leans forward a bit, rocking his hips. 

The cabbie snorts, then winks at Foggy. “Have a nice night, you lucky, lucky bastard.”

“We will.”

As the taxi drives off, Matt leans further forward on the balls of his feet, pressing his whole upper body into Foggy’s back. He splays his broad, powerful fingers but doesn’t dig in, just frames Foggy.

Foggy turns a quarter turn, allowing Matt to lean his head onto his shoulder. They tilt their heads together. Matt is shifting, the tip of his dick having finally found a seam in his pants and prodding over it again and again. It’s no relief, but he can feel it, every stray stitch, and there's something soothing about playing with himself in a small, repetitive gesture.

Foggy exhales. "Firstly, was that okay? With the taxi driver?”

Matt nods into Foggy’s shoulder. “Yes, Foggy."

“But...?”

Matt ruts along the seam of the inside of his pants a little harder, just to feel the bite, to ground himself.

"But only because we’ll probably never meet her again.”

“You don’t want me showing you off to people we know. That was one of our agreements.”

“Karen’s okay.”

“I do enjoy that recent amendment to our agreement.”

Matt smiles, dips his hand into his front pant pocket. "I think she came twice in those three blocks."

Foggy tips his head back and laughs. “Well done!”

Matt smiles, a bit loose at the praise, and allows himself a squeeze. The ring is broad and utterly unforgiving, but the warmth of his hand around himself is steady and familiar.

“Matt, I see that hand of yours.“

Matt freezes.

“You’re starting to get very bold, grabbing yourself here in public where anyone might notice.”

“You’d tell me if we were being watched.”

Foggy nods and places a gentle kiss on Matt’s forehead, steadying Matt’s hand so he doesn’t withdraw from his front pants pocket.

“I would. I like that you’re starting to give yourself this, Matt. You’re allowed to make yourself feel good.” He kisses Matt's cheek. "Does it feel good?”

Matt squeezes again. His fingers are strong. He pulses with a ripple effect: first the fingers at the base just above the ring, then pressure in a wave toward the tip. He lets loose a tiny gasp, then nods. “Good, Foggy.”

“Alright. Here’s what we’ll do: You keep touching yourself the whole way back to the apartment. You only let go if I tell you to, or if it stops being good. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Foggy.”

“Great. Now, squeeze harder, and let’s get going.”

Matt loves Foggy, and Foggy knows best, so Matt obeys.

They arrive at a crosswalk. It’s midday and foot traffic is light. Foggy narrates the sights, bends to pet a dog as they wait with a few other pedestrians at the only cross walk before they reach the apartment. As Foggy bends over to say hello to the pup, he whispers, “One step forward."

Matt swallows, then jerks his head in a nod.

“Don’t stop with your hand.”

Matt shifts his grip, tucking his hand behind his shaft so he’s tugging downward with a pull and twist at the wrist. 

Stepping forward one full step puts him right against Foggy’s ass. The kid walking the dog is wearing enormous headphones and pays them no mind. Matt strokes himself in time to the music.

Foggy fondles the dog’s floppy ears. “You’re a good boy. Yes you are. Good boys get all the treats.”

The dog wags its tail.

Matt twists and tugs himself. His hips cant forward a bit, wanting to rub on Foggy.

Foggy leans forward just a bit more. His balance shifts, sliding and dragging his ass around Matt’s hand-cradled dick. It’s warm.

Matt exhales.

The “WALK” light illuminates and the small crowd shuffled forward.

Foggy pats the pup, who is pulled forward by a gentle tug from the leash in the teen’s hand.

Foggy rights himself, sliding across Matt, feeling Matt’s fingers working dutifully.

“A good boy you’ve got,” Foggy says to the teen, smiling.

Matt gasps at the depth of Foggy’s voice and reaches his free hand around Foggy’s waist, pressing on his belly. He pushes Foggy backward, urging Foggy to lean against him, against his waist and his fist working around his length. 

An old lady who’d crossed with the light from the sidewalk across the street snickers. “You’ve got a good boy there yourself,” she says with a knowing glance at Foggy's red face. 

Matt’s fingers spread low across Foggy’s belly. He pulls them together tight, rocks his knuckles, making sure Foggy will feel it.

Foggy tilts his head back on Matt’s shoulder, looking up at Matt. His eyes slide back to the woman, who is chuckling as she walks past. “Yes, ma’am," Foggy says, "I certainly do.”

Matt begins to dip his fingers below Foggy’s brown leather belt but Foggy shakes his head. “Not yet, baby.”

Foggy takes a step forward, hoping to cross the street and finally get to their apartment beyond, but Matt whines lightly in his ear. He’s rubbing himself more freely against the slot of Foggy’s ass. He presses both hands on Foggy’s belly again, tugging.

“I said not yet.” Foggy steps forward again and Matt lets him, fingers sliding to Foggy's sides, then dropping.

“But soon,” Foggy promises.

Matt’s shoulders slouch a bit but he falls into step beside his Foggy.

As they cross, Foggy muses, “You know, if you’re going to be this much trouble walking in public, I could always get you a leash.”

Matt nods. “You... could.”

Without breaking stride, Foggy commands, “Keep stroking, love, a bit lighter now. You’re doing great.” He hums happily to see Matt comply instantly, returning his hand into the front pocket of his pants. 

“Would you like me on a leash?” Matt asks, his voice soft but hitching slightly on the last word.

Foggy counters, ”Would you like to be leashed? That is the real question.”

Matt pulls his fingers back, massaging now with just the tips of each finger in slow circles, four rhythmic circles braced against his thumb. “I want what you want.”

Foggy pats Matt's hand at his elbow. “What a coincidence! You want what I want and I want what you want! We’ll never get anywhere at this rate. And I, for one, have plans for the afternoon. And the evening. And quite possibly all the way through until morning.“

Matt hangs his head. “I have plenty of ties and they’re much more comfortable.”

Foggy unlocks the sidewalk entrance to their apartment. “Excellent," he praises. "Open communication and we didn’t even have to detour to the pet shop. Thank you.”

Matt smiles, tentative, and steps into the entryway after Foggy. “Can I..?” They’ve had more than one quick rut right there in the lobby, never quite caught in the act thanks to Matt’s spectacular hearing.

“Not today. The ties, they reminded me of my second point.” 

Matt turns to Foggy, attentive. 

Foggy reaches out. “Give me your hands, baby. Both of them. This is important.”

By now the broad flat metal of the ring encircling the base of Matt’s cock is warm, but it’s a pale shadow in comparison to the lively warmth of his fingers, squeezing at Foggy’s command. Matt whimpers.

“Matt,” Foggy says, voice soft and caring but with the steely undercurrent that pulls in all of Matt’s considerable powers of attention. Foggy clasps his hands around Matt's. 

Matt goes still. “Foggy.” Not a question. A statement. Maybe the only statement that matters.  
“Matt, what’s wrong with my strawberry waffles?”

Matt blinks several times in quick succession. “Nothing!”

“You told Karen you wanted pancakes.”

“Yes, but--”

“--You can tell me,” Foggy reaches up, gentles Matt’s cheek with a broad, warm palm. “You can tell me what you want.”

“I wanted the waffles, honest, Foggy, I did!”

Foggy drops his hand from Matt's face. “But you wanted pancakes more?”

“No, Foggy!”

“It’s okay, Matt, I know you’re working on it. We’ll get there. I’m not mad.” Foggy lets go with both hands. “Look how far we’ve come already, right? You were so good for me. And for the court! And for the taxi driver and that saucy old lady. And Karen’s definitely bringing us the fancy mochas on Monday, I can sense it.”

Matt takes a step forward, reaching out. “Foggy—-“

“Shh...” Foggy holds Matt’s shoulders, stroking a thumb. “How about this: How about you run up these godforsaken stairs and get yourself ready for me?”

“Foggy—-“

“I’ll take the elevator like a mere mortal. I want you naked by the time I arrive. You get to choose the first surface.”

“Foggy—-“

Foggy squeezes Matt’s shoulders. “Is that agreeable?”

“What? Yes, of course. I love that but—-“

“I’m not mad, Matt,” Foggy repeats, and his heart is beating _true true true_.

“Now: _GO_.”

Matt goes, bounding up the stairs with long-legged grace. How the man can do that when he’s had a ringed cock for three hours is beyond Foggy. But then, Matt’s always been something of a force of nature. 

Foggy grabs their things and summons the elevator after checking their mailbox. On the way up, he texts Karen, narrating out loud for Matt.

[Heard you had a good time while we were in the taxi.] 

She responds with [ :sweat_drops: :sweat_drops: :thumbs_up: ]

Foggy laughs and reads aloud the emoji. Then replies: [you might want to stay home this evening, Ms Page; there is plenty more where that came from]

“Really?” Matt calls, unimpressed, from the living area as Foggy opens the door. “'Plenty more where that _came_ from?'”

Foggy stops dead in his tracks by the shut door, then rolls his eyes. "Shut up, Murdock, my mind was not exactly on the witty banter at that moment.”

Matt simply hums and Foggy takes the time to slip out of his shoes and jacket. He loosens his tie but does not remove it. Matt has left a trail of clothing from the front door. The items are very artfully arranged, trailing from place to place: a sock here, Matt’s silk and lace thong there. Foggy loves his dork. 

His dork is on their couch. He’s thrown the curtains open and the pale orange light of the city filters in through the wide, high windows.  
Every ridge of his body is painted in soft light. He is seated upright, hands in his lap. His perfect, uncut penis peeks up between his forearms. It is red, shiny, and perfect. 

Foggy gulps. His mouth feels suddenly... empty. 

But, not yet.

He steps forward. Matt is still, his calm face turned toward Foggy. His knees and ankles are together, his bare feet flat on the hardwood floor. His chest rises and falls slowly with each measured breath.

As Foggy takes another slow step forward he offers Matt a small smile. Matt can’t see it, but he knows.

After a moment admiring the way the orange light throws the rest of Matt into deep shadow, all smooth, hard planes of muscle, Foggy turns to set the last of their things on the kitchen counter.

Matt won’t move from his designated presentation position on the couch, Foggy knows. Not without being told.

But Matt’s allowed to track Foggy’s movements and does so with a slow, almost dreamy sweep of his muscular neck. He’s got a five o’clock shadow. Foggy had shaved Matt’s face that very morning to be ready for court, but Matt grows stubble like a man born for it. 

Foggy turns back from his moment puttering in the kitchen and attempting to compose a joke about the junk mail he picked up. Foggy knows Matt's failing to reveal his preferred breakfast this morning has left Matt in a delicate state. This will require stern and gentle in equal measures.

The light from the kitchen is whiter and brighter -- the one brand of LED Matt insists doesn’t “buzz” -- so when Foggy turns around he finally sees it.

He knew it was there, of course. Even before they began the serious endeavor of Matt ceding control to Foggy in and (more and more) out of the bedroom, Foggy knew about most of Matt’s injuries these days, at least the serious ones and the visible ones.

But, despite months of reminding himself not to, he gasps, just a little, at the sight of the black and blue expanse of Matt’s back. Like a blotchy, stormy sea of grays and greens, crossed with jagged white scars and picked with pits and tears. Matt's back bears scars as records of past injuries Foggy has cataloged a hundred times but still doesn’t have the power to name. 

Matt’s shoulders dip, curling inward at the sound. 

“You’re breathtakingly beautiful,” Foggy murmurs. He goes to Matt. 

“You can turn out the light, if you like,” Matt whispers.

Foggy untucks his collared shirt, rolls up his sleeves, and sits on the coffee table. (Any apartment housing Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson requires a sturdy coffee table, and not just because of surprise drop-in visits from hostile ninjas.)

Foggy reaches forward and tilts Matt’s chin upward. “Did I turn out the light?”

“No, Foggy.”

“Okay. Do you want me to turn out the light? I like looking at your body.”

Matt shuffles. His dick bobs, glinting. “No, Foggy.”

“Good. That’s good.” He moves his hands to run through Matt’s soft hair.

Matt leans into the gesture.

Matt swallows.

Foggy narrows his eyes. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me? Anything you’d like to ask?”

“Yes, Foggy.”

“Okay. Thank you. Tell me, or ask me now.”

“Well,” Matt lips his lips, “there’s lots of things—-“

Foggy nods. “Okay. We have time to try them all. Just ask.”

“Your waffles are the best homemade waffles I’ve ever had in my life.”

“ _Matt._ ”

“They are!”

“Aren’t they the only homemade waffles you’ve ever had in your life?”

“That’s not the point!”

“No,” Foggy says gently. “No, it’s not. You’re allowed to enjoy one thing we share but enjoy another thing better, like pancakes.”

Matt twitches as if he wants to stand up, but Foggy’s Hand is in his hair and he dare not rise. “Foggy, the only reason I told Karen pancakes is because I had just had waffles nine hours ago.“

“Oh,” Foggy says.

“Yea.”

Foggy collapses forward, falling into Matt’s lap. They both start laughing.

“Oh, my god, I am a terrible dom. You tried to tell me about the pancakes downstairs and then I made you run all those stairs -- and with the ring on!”

“What! No! Foggy, you are an amazing dom! I love when you tell me what to do and I —-“

Foggy looks up from where he is slumped in Matt’s lap. “And you like being able to do what I tell you?”

Matt pulls Foggy up and all the way onto the couch. He nods, burying his face in Foggy’s shoulder. “Yea.”

“‘Yea’? ‘ _Yea_ '?”

Matt pulls back. “I mean: Yes, Foggy!”

Foggy immediately rewards Matt with a quick kiss on the cheek. “Very good, baby.”

Color rises in Matt’s cheeks. He twitches his dick to remind Foggy of just how long he’s been very good. 

Foggy chuckles, reaching down one hand. He bypasses Matt’s dick entirely to fondle his ballsack. Matt’s got a short garden of thick, wiry hairs going. Foggy watches him manscape every week or so. Too short and Matt complains it itches, too long and he complains the he doesn’t get the chafing he wants in the really rough sessions.

The memory sparks an idea in Foggy. “Here, let’s play a game.”

Matt perks up. He is very good at their games. The best -- Foggy tells him so every time -- and he does not plan on breaking his winning streak.

Foggy gently rolls Matt’s balls, warm and pliant. “You did so wonderfully in court today. You impressed many passersby. You made Karen come twice. I would like to play a game of rewards. Would you like that?”

“Yes, Foggy. But,” Matt gulps, “But don’t make it too easy.”

"I won't," Foggy says. "I won't make it easy for you." Both hands tighten around Matt's balls. “Or for your body.”

Matt gasps and arches his hips off the couch, lifting them both. Foggy’s inner ear is panicking but he knows Matt would never dump them into the ground so he keeps his fingers tight around Matt's testicles.

“Good, good,” he whispers.

Matt’s hands are clenched into the couch cushion. Foggy hasn’t told him what to do yet, so he he won't move except to show Foggy how much he’s enjoying riding the edge of pain.

Matt already spoke out of turn when Foggy had told him to be quiet and he’s hoping Foggy has forgotten that. However, Foggy is very clever and very observant and never seems to forget any of Matt’s responses to his commands, which is just one of the many things that make Foggy the only person Matt could ever call his dom.

Foggy twists his hand sharply, drawing out a cry from Matt, and then he releases to a gentle hold.

He circles Matt’s areolae with flat palm of his other hand, lazy and slow. He fondles Matt's ballsack with his fingertips while letting his thumb burrow deeper between the muscles of Matt’s ass, prodding and exploring.

“Tell me...” Foggy muses.

“Anything,” Matt promises fervently. “Anything for you, Foggy.“

“How much yoga do you know?”

Matt tilts his head to the side and clasps the couch cushions still tighter. It’s something of a trick question and they both know it.

Foggy’s thumb pushes back, back, pressing a dimple into Matt’s body.

“Plenty,” Matt settles on, flexing his hips.

Foggy withdraws from Matt’s perineum, never having quite reached Matt’s anus. A disappointing answer for them both, then. 

Foggy pats Matt’s chest. “Up you get. I want you to be limber after a long day in court.”

Matt scrambles to obey, standing... with Foggy still in his arms.

Foggy’s heartbeat ratchets up, like it does every time Matt causally displays his incredible strength. After a second he catches his breath and says, “Yes, very impressive.”

Foggy pulls in Matt for a kiss, looping both arms around Matt’s shoulders. Matt cranes his neck down and they fall into the kiss. It’s always lovely and this time is no different. They’re both aroused and soon begin to press together their tongues. Matt responds beautifully to a pumping motion from Foggy, pushing in and out, in and out. Matt flattens his tongue down in response, creating a hollow cave. He tries to swallow Foggy’s tongue down and back. 

Foggy obliges so far as he can, crawling up Matt's chest as Matt tilts them backward. Matt likes Foggy to push his tongue as far down Matt’s throat as possible. Matt pulses his flattened tongue, pulling and dragging Foggy back, back, back, and down.

But teeth and jawbones are eventually fitted together, as wide as they’ll go, and they have to settle for pumping each other's mouths. Foggy’s dick is straining and he shuffles just a bit and then decides he needs them to move on from kissing. He slides back out of the wet cavern of Matt’s needy mouth, slow, so slow, peppering kisses with his lips to silently promise much more. 

Matt is breathing heavily, holding Foggy close to his chest, but his arms at not trembling at all. Foggy is determined to change that. “Set me down and go get your tie.”

Matt complies with eager alacrity. He returns with his red silk tie and immediately kneels at Foggy’s feet beside the couch. Foggy loops the tie behind Matt’s neck and then executes a perfect full Windsor knot, patting it. 

“Ready for work?” He asks. Matt nods, slipping more and more toward nonverbal.

Foggy straightens the tie. “Good.” He pats Matt's pectoral fondly. “Floor stretches first. Your usual routine, but keep it slow.”

Matt nods, still kneeling with his hands on his thighs.

“Anything else?” Foggy asks.

“Carpet... or floor?” Matt's question barely carries with his soft voice, more than enough indication for Foggy. On a better day, he’d instruct Matt to pick according to his personal preference, but today Matt needs a sterner hand and this is his way of communication that to Foggy.

“Hmmm... Bare floor, I think. But mind you don’t get any splinters: that fantastic ass is mine, you know.”

Matt rises out of sub-state enough to smirk before standing and strutting to the edge of the big area rug. It’s wool, dyed dark gray. Matt pushes the sturdy coffee table aside and then rolls up the carpet, making sure his ass is up and directed toward Foggy as he works.

Foggy hums his appreciation. Matt’s ass... what is there to say about Matt’s ass that the Greeks and their muses haven’t already said?

Foggy lets his hand do the talking. When Matt ends the carpet-rolling with a positively lewd jiggle directly in front of him, Foggy slaps his palm down across both cheeks with a satisfying _crack!_

Matt doesn’t give Foggy the satisfaction of reacting, so Foggy gives him another two slaps, one blow in each cheek. 

Matt wiggles his hips, still bent over the rolled up rug. 

Foggy rolls his eyes but smiles and stands. He unbuttons his collared shirt and removes it, murmuring under his breath, “I didn’t realize this was part of your routine, Matty. If I had known spanking were involved I would have started working out with you sooner.”

Matt again shakes his hips, tilting upward at Foogy. The orange light is tinged just a bit pink along the edges of the curved globes of each cheek. Foggy has charted those globes, with hand, with cane and riding crop, with tongue. But tonight...

With a quick flick of his wrist, he snaps his twirled shirt, laying a stinging blow.

Matt inhales sharply but before he’s through Foggy flicks again.

Matt hisses. 

Foggy pauses on the backswing, watching Matt carefully. The corner of the rolled up shirt left sharp welts but he’s not bleeding. Matt cranes his head over his shoulder as if to look at Foggy, and smiles. He cants his hips again, slowly.

Foggy shakes his head, “You asked for it.” He whips the shirt through the air four more times, precise hits landing on one cheek then the other. After several minutes of lashing Matt has reds stripes on the flesh of his butt, and Foggy is sweating with exertion.

Matt rocks forward on the final, fiercest blow. “Foggy!” he cries, rutting into rug.

Foggy drops the shirt and snatches the tie around Matt’s neck. “No!” He tugs once, sharply but not enough to interrupt Matt’s balance.

Matt jerks his hips forward again, trying to rub on the rug. “Please!”

“Come here. _To me, pet._ ” Foggy keeps the tie in hand, but his voice is sharp enough he doesn’t need to pull it again. Matt crawls to Foggy’s feet.

Foggy caresses Matt’s hair. Matt nuzzles his head against Foggy’s pant leg. He rocks his hips into the empty air, cock dark and throbbing.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yes, Foggy.”

“Is it good?”

Matt nuzzles more firmly. “Yes, Foggy.”

“Good. I want you to feel good, but you must understand that I don’t want you to try to get off on your own." Foggy turns Matt's head forward so he can't hide against Foggy's leg. "You’ve got a ring on, you understand? You could hurt yourself. If you want it to hurt, you ask me." Matt nods once, very slowly. Foggy continues to pet his hair. "You don’t have to use words; do like you did just now. But I don’t want you to get damaged. Okay?"

“Yes, Foggy.”

“And why don’t I want you to get damaged?”

“Because I’m yours, Foggy. Only yours.”

“That’s right.”

Matt smiles up at Foggy and the trust is so open and beautiful Foggy could cry. But he won’t, because that’s not what Matty needs right now. “Stand.”

Matt scrambles to his feet, hands open across his thighs. Foggy sits down in the couch and gestures with an upturned palm to the center of the room. “Floor stretches.”

Matt nods once, curt, then moves to the open expanse of the floor. He rolls his head to the side and lifts a shoulder to indicate the open curtains.

Foggy shrugs. “You opened them, right?”

Matt nods, already sinking to the ground. 

“Works for me,” Foggy says, unzipping his trousers and pulling himself free from his boxer briefs. 

Unlike Matt, Foggy is circumcised. Foggy likes to joke this was to “give all other penises a fair shot,” because Foggy is, in no uncertain terms, several steps ahead on the length and girth bell curves. He generally hates shaving or waxing, but ever since getting into a more full-time dom/sub relationship with Matt he has added grooming Foggy’s undercarriage to Matt’s list of household chores. Matt never misses a chance to shave him with tender touches and the occasional tongue-bath.

Foggy settles backward into the couch, reaching down with both hands. He wishes he’d fished the lube out of the coffee table drawer before Matt skid it aside but, alas, he’ll have to take it slow.

Matt is doing the same: Laying down along his outstretched legs to grab his ankles. His breathing has settled.

Foggy watches and strokes. He remembers Matt in the court, in the taxi, on the street.

Matt slides his legs apart, one hand on each ankle. His legs spread wide, then wider still. Soon they’re in a line and Matt is split open on the floor, tilting a smile in Foggy’s direction. 

“I can taste you,” Matt says.

One hand gripping the base of his dick, Foggy creates a tunnel with the fingers of his other hand and pushes it down over the expanse of the head. He gasps, pushing up and repeatedly plunging into the tunnel of his fingers. “Lean back,” he says, "supine straddle split."

Matt leans backward. 

“Don’t—ah—- don’t let go. Just lean back as far as you can.”

Matt leans back, abs glistening with strain. His hands go up his legs resting somewhere near his knees as he pulls his legs even farther apart. His shoulders hit the floor. The curve of his back is a bow, a bridge. The muscles of his arms are trembling but he holds himself open in the split pose. His head is back, on the floor, and his eyes are closed.

“Foggy,” he says, “Foggy, I can taste you.”

Foggy is leaking precum between his fingers. He gives himself a reluctant squeeze and stands. Stepping out of his pants, he approaches Matt. “Arch your back a bit more for me, baby.”

Matt shuffles. The floor is slick with his sweat -- from both the strain of the straddle position and his longing for Foggy to touch him -- but he is good for his Foggy. So good.

Gasping, he arches his entire back off the floor, and then his pelvis as well, ass hovering just above the ground. His erection crowns the arch of his trembling body.

“Beautiful boy,” Foggy says, taking a long, slow walk around Matt. Matt's dick is straining, pointed up and slightly to the side. Foggy bends down to inspect it. He exhales.

Matt cries out, loses his focus, and slips back down to one shoulder on the ground. His legs move down out of the split into a more natural position to support himself: still spread wide, but now stable.

Foggy leans backward out of Matt’s space, lightly resting a hand on Matt’s shaking hip and giving Matt time to collect himself. 

Matt pulls his shoulder back off the ground.

Foggy smiles down at Matt, shining and straining, pliant and trembling. He’ll try to do anything Foggy asks, happily. But right now, Foggy just wants to give Matt a chance to relax, and he thinks Matt is finally in a space where they can get him there.

Foggy leans over Matt’s body, reaches out his other hand, and unlocks the ring around the base of Matt’s cock. Though Foggy keeps his fingers ringed around Matt, Matt cries out in relief and drops to the floor, panting and gasping.

“Are you ready to come?” Foggy asks.

Matt doesn’t respond. His breathing is quick. He’s no longer focused directly on Foggy. Foggy kneels and pulls Matt into his lap this time, gently running his hands up and down Matt’s sides. Up and down, giving Matt something to ground himself on.

After a long moment moment of gentle caresses, Matt murmurs, "Foggy."

“I’m here.”

“I’m sorry hard, Foggy. Wanna come."

“Okay, baby, I got you. Do you want me to touch you?”

Matt nods immediately.

“Do you want me in you?”

“Always.”

Foggy pauses, letting his cupped palm rest on the hot stripes on Matt’s ass. Foggy lets his finger trace the lines on Matt’s ass. Matt flexes, pushing back. Foggy shakes his head and chuckles. “Alright.”

Foggy flexes his fingers so his nails bite in and Matt wails. But before Matt can pull away Foggy rakes his fingers down , cutting across the welts and leaving new red tracks. Matt hisses.

“Get the lube.” Foggy says. Matt hesitates, rocking his warm and swollen ass against Foggy’s hand. Foggy brings down his other hand with a deafening crack, not pulling back the full force of the blow. Matt leaps clear to his feet, agile as ever and scampers to the coffee table, pulling open drawers with abandon. Various sex toys go flying before he gets the lube in hand. He returns to Foggy, who stands and palms himself, resettling his junk. Matt gets on his hands and knees before Foggy, resting the bottle of lube in the small of his back. It’s a familiar and heartwarming sight, but Foggy has other ideas. 

He steps over to the rolled up rug. “Here. Drape on this.” It’s a sizable rug and,rolled up. Is the perfect height for Matt to kneel over.

“Bring the lube.”

Matt does as he is bid, crawling. He lays across the rug and presents his ass to Foggy. 

Foggy smiles. “Lube up your fingers."

Matt frowns. “Both hands,” Foggy amends.

“Want you” Matt whines.

“You’ll get me, if and when I say.”

“Yes, Foggy.”

“Good boy. I want you to ride your fingers.”

Matt nods. He pauses as he pulls the line toward himself. “How many?”

“As many as you can, pet.”

Matt swallows, the nods.

“Be loud for me, baby. You know I like that.”

Matt nods again. He closes his eyes and slathers both hands in lube. Foggy pats Matt’s head and gently reaches down to grab the tie.

Matt reaches back with his right hand first. He circles his hole, rubbing. He could go straight in, wants to go straight in, they both know, but they both also know that Foggy likes to watch.

Foggy settles directly behind Matt, between his knees. Matt can feel his every unsteady breath warm against the slick on his skin. He can even feel Foggy’s heartbeat.

Matt slips two fingers into himself, biting his lip. He pulls in one long, smooth glide.

“Matty,” Foggy warns, stern. Matt freezes, fingers still in his ass.

“I want to hear you.”

Matt nods vigorously. “I — F—“ he stutters, jerking his hips so his dick is rubbing on the rug.

Foggy smiles fondly and set his hands high on Matt’s hips. “Shh... you don’t have to use words. I want to hear you scream.”

Matt blinks. 

Then his soft features go sharp for a second. “Make me,” snarls the Devil’s voice.

And Foggy? Well Foggy has to beat the Devil out of him.

He slams an open-palmed slap on Matt’s cheek, then the other. Matt jerks into the rug, tries to reposition his hand but Foggy’s there with another blow, hitting the back of Matt’s hand, driving him into himself.

Matt keens and this has got to be one of Foggy’s favorite sounds. Foggy leaves his hand there and leans in, pushing. Matt grunts, bracing into the rug. Foggy spanks Matt a few more times at the back of his legs.

“Hand.” Foggy demands. Matt tries to tug his hand out from under Foggy’s but Foggy leans in with all his weight and swats Matt again. 

“Other hand.”

Matt shifts as much weight as he can over his hips back into Foggy so he can rest his chest a front of his shoulders on the rug and reach back with his other hand. Foggy nods approvingly, admiring the redness of Matt’s body, the sound of his breathing desperate. He leans back, guiding Matt’s other hand to his hole.

“Let’s start with two more.”

Matt inhales sharply.

“Hmm...?” Foggy asks.

“Yes, Foggy.”

Foggy beams. "Good boy," he whispers.

Matt bows his back and slips in the two longest fingers beside the other two. On his exhales his arms flex, dipping his fingers wider. On his inhales he can reach back farther, pushing in just a bit more.

Foggy lips his lips. “You said you could taste me?” He asks.

Matt moans.

“And you want to feel me?”

Matt moans, louder. He pushes with his fingers, arching his back away from the rug to get deeper.

“Open up for me, baby. As much as you can, open up.”

Matt rocks, pushing his fingers in and out. The squelching, wet noise is obscene but foggy barely registers it because of Matt’s moans. Matt pushes another finger of each hand into himself, rolling his wrists so his fingers are clinging and pulling the edges of his hole wide, rather than just pushing in.

Matt gasps and moans. Everything smells wet and sweaty and _alive_. There are small tears forming in the corners of Matt’s eyes, beginning to trace down his cheeks.

“Oh, look at you,” Foggy murmurs, “You want me so bad and I haven’t even touched you.”

Matt moans again, pushing and pulling at himself.

“Here,” Foggy offers tenderly, “let me help.” He reaches forward, one hand on each of Matt’s, and he pushes. 

“Oh!” Matt gasps as his own fingers push deeper into himself.

“This is the game, Matty. This is the reward game.”

Matt swallows, then nods. He keeps his hands still. His knees are trembling and he is sweating profusely, curled into himself.

“Good.” Foggy pats Matt’s ass, then collects the tie again. He pulls it enough that Matt’s head lifts, rises above the arch of his shoulders. 

“Push in with both hands... _Now_.”

As Matt struggles to comply Foggy spanks both hands again. 

Matt jerks. His hands start to slip down. 

Foggy pulls the tie.

Matt gulps down a breath, furrows his brow despite the tears on his cheek, and pushes in with both hands.

“There we are.” Foggy gives each side of Matt’s ass a long, vicious scratch. Matt moans but keeps his hands in place this time.

“Almost ready for me, I think.” Foggy nods to himself. “Nearly so.” He licks his lips, slow and deliberate. “Matty, I know we’ve never done this before but do you think you can manage more fingers?”

Matt goes still and Foggy is grateful for the sign that he’s honestly thinking it over rather than rushing to obey.

Matt’s ass and asshole are a marvelous playground that Foggy has explored in depth, and will continue to test for a long time. But this is new and Matt trusts Foggy not to ask for too much too fast.

Very slowly, almost timid, Matt shakes his head: no. “Can try,” he says. “Wanna try Fogs, wanna try for you.”

“But...?”

Matt makes an attempt to shrug his shoulders.

“Ah, yes, I see.” It’s not a position where Matt, even as remarkably flexible as he is, would be able to bring his elbows around.

“How about this?” Foggy reaches and tugs on Matt’s right hand, urging him to withdraw it. Matt immediately whines.

“Matt. Trust me.”

Matt lets Foggy slide his hand out of his ass. He immediately tilts his hip to push the other hand farther in.

Foggy smiles; Matt’s got the right idea.

Foggy leads Matt’s hand to the tie. “I want you to take this." When Matt doesn't move at first, Foggy nudges Matt's hand with the tie. “Take it, and pull against yourself whenever you need to. You know I’m not as strong as you. This way, you can tire yourself out.”

Matt’s fingers close around the tie but he looks uncertain.

Foggy's galloping heart slows a tad, warm and tender. “You’re allowed to do this.”

Matt nods, once, and immediately begins rolling the tie around his fist, frighteningly like his muy thai ropes.

Once Foggy is certain Matt is only going to pull and not choke himself (that would require much closer, undivided supervision), Foggy settles one hand on Matt’s left wrist and splays his other hand across Matt’s ass cheek.

“Fourth finger," he instructs.

Matt uncurls his pinky.

Foggy strokes Matt’s hand, smearing the lube. “Push...now.”

Foggy pushes on Matt’s wrist as Matt gasps and pushes in. His pinky disappears. Foggy rewards Matt with more deep scratches.

“Very good, beautiful.”

Matt nods, panting.

“Are you ready for me, or do you think you want to try for your thumb too?”

“Foggy--”

“That’s me.”

“Foggy--”

“Yes, dear.”

“Foggy, please.”

Foggy gives Matt’s ass one last fond slap and then nudges up beside Matt’s arm. And pushes.

“Wha—- ah!”

Foggy’s got wide, strong hips. His knees are planted on the floor. And he is very, very familiar with the intricacies of fucking Matthew Michael Murdock. 

He pushes his dick alongside Matt’s fingers, forcing Matt out to make room. The muscles of Matt's ass immediately clench around the head of Foggy’s dick, and his now-free fingers stroke to apply a quick and sloppily layer of lube. 

Foggy squeezes has palm fondly, dimpling the cuts and furrows he’s left across Matt’s ass cheeks. “Brace yourself,” Foggy warns.

And that’s all the warning Matt gets.

Even as Matt scrambles to bring his arms forward, Foggy is pushing, relentless.

Matt squeals, grappling for the ground and setting his legs against the rug roll.

Foggy pushes in in in. He’s so long and large. Matt knows him, will never forget the feeling of Foggy inside him.

And yet this? This feeling is new every time.

Matt stretches around Foggy until Foggy is nearly seated.

Matt taps the ground twice.

Foggy holds, runs a hand through Matt’s hair. Matt reaches back a hand, feels where Foggy is entering him, where he is swallowing Foggy. Matt’s questing fingers give the base of Foggy’s dick a fond squeeze, not quite encircling Foggy’s full girth at the root. 

And then Matt flicks the side of Foggy’s belly.

Foggy throws back his head, laughing. “You little shit!”

He thrusts the rest of the way into Matt and begins rocking. After two thrusts, he moves more forcefully, driving Matt into the rug, driving the rug roll into the floor. Matt attempts to sync with Foggy’s thrusts, rubbing against the rug, panting loud and short gasps. 

The rug burns. The base of his penis is still sore from wearing the ring. But Foggy is with him, in him, and he finally doesn’t feel empty.

Foggy pounds. The slap of his hips against Matt’s ass would be music but Foggy has learned to vary his rhythm, vary his strokes. Sometimes he pushes long and deeper. Other thrusts are quick, pulling back too soon.

Matt growls. He tries to grind into the rug and push back to meet Foggy but Foggy won’t let him match the pace. This is a game, and Matt has to work to win it.

Matt is very, very good at this game.

With a roar of frustration bordering on rage, Matt arches his back, clenching his not inconsiderable ass around Foggy to pull Foggy forward by the enormous dick he has buried in Matt’s hungry hungry ass.

In a quick motion, Matt loops the tie around Foggy’s neck and pulls him down across his back.

Foggy’s weight crashes into Matt, pinning him. 

Matt’s knees give out.

And finally, he screams! “FOGGY!”

The feeling of Foggy deep in him and the push of the rug and Foggy all along his body envelopes Matt. Sounds feel like tastes. The touch of his skin is the touch of Foggy’s skin. Outside, it starts to rain.

The rug roll is sticky under his hips when Matt returns from the stratosphere.

Foggy’s still in him, rocking in a slow, lazy way that tells Matt he’s trying to decide if he wants to pull out and clean up or just lay there for a while. As usual, Matt doesn’t want this to end. But also as usual, Foggy knows that proper pacing earns them more fun in the long run.

Foggy collects Matt into his arms. Matt snuggles backward. The rug is somewhat unrolled and they lay on it for a long moment.

“Matt, I want you to know that I love you very much...”

Matt preens.

“And I am proud of you for taking steps to tell me what you need...”

Matt snuggles closer.

“But I need you to know... That thing where you hooked me with the tie?”

“You liked it,” Matt says.

“Even so... Matt, you were a very naughty boy.”

Matt grins.

It’s going to be a long night.

But... He’s going to win.


End file.
